


Just One Of Those Days

by Dracothelizard



Category: Supernatural, Top Gear (UK) RPF
Genre: Bodyswap, Comedy, Crack, Crossover, Gen, The Stig Did It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-02-10
Updated: 2008-02-10
Packaged: 2018-01-11 21:39:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1178222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dracothelizard/pseuds/Dracothelizard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester and Jeremy Clarkson swap bodies, and it takes everyone else a surprisingly long time to figure out what happened. And then Zombie Piers Morgan turns up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just One Of Those Days

When Dean wakes up, he immediately notices that he's not in the room he was in when he fell asleep. He’s in some sort of office, and, since he’s not tied down, he’s wondering why he’s here. He thinks someone would’ve told him if he had the habit of sleepwalking, and kidnappers would’ve restrained him.  
  
He gets up from the office chair he woke up in, wincing at the pain in his back. First things first, he has to find out where he is, and then how to get back to Sam. A glance out the window reveals he’s at a racetrack, and he can see people walking around with cameras.  
  
Dean figures that he may as well go outside and ask those people where he is, because they don’t look like criminals or monsters, and if that goes wrong, well, Dean will borrow one of the cars that are parked outside.  
  
Satisfied with this plan, he tries the door and is pleased it opens. It means he really can’t have been kidnapped, so whoever got him here probably hasn’t got very evil intentions. It’s only mildly reassuring, but Dean will take all the reassurance he can get.  
  
The first door he tries in the hallway reveals a bathroom, and Dean immediately apologises to the middle-aged man inside, except then Dean notices that the guy’s face only appears in the mirror, and that his mouth closes and opens at the same time as Dean’s.  
  
Oh, no, this is not happening. This can’t be happening. Dean rubs his face with his hand, trying not to panic when the face in the mirror does the same. He looks down at himself, wondering how he could have failed to notice the completely different clothes he is wearing. And the beer belly is also a bit of a giveaway.  
  
There is probably a good explanation for this, and his father and Bobby have mentioned creatures who have the ability to swap bodies, but those creatures always make their human victims inhabit the monster’s body while the monster goes on a killing spree in the human body. And then they swap back, and the victim is left to explain to the police what happened if they haven’t gone insane already.  
  
Dean doesn’t think that’s what’s going on, as his current body may not be as handsome as his old one, but it isn’t exactly monstrous either. He searches his pockets for a wallet or something else that will tell him who he is, but he only finds car keys in his jeans. Then he remembers the office, and he goes back there to find some clues.  
  
There’re car magazines lying around, which isn’t too strange if they’re at a racetrack, but nothing with a name on it. He spots a jacket hanging over the office chair, and it contains a wallet with a driver’s license saying that he is Jeremy Charles Robert Clarkson, born on the 11th of April in 1960. The name sounds vaguely familiar, but Dean pushes that thought to the back of his mind. He has to find a phone and warn Sam about this. Sam can do research and find out what’s going on, and then they can reverse this and Dean can go back to being himself.  
  
He finds Clarkson’s cell phone lying on the ground, next to the wall, and Dean can see why Clarkson is in the habit of throwing it at the walls, because the number that he dials is unavailable at the moment. Dean knows that Sam always keeps his phone on and charged, so it can’t be that, and the phone he’s holding has reception, so why the hell can’t he call Sam to tell him he’s been bodyswapped? He tries his own cell phone, but that number is unavailable as well.  
  
Dean gives up, and thinks that Sam will just have to deal with the situation without a warning. Besides, his brother is smart and knows Dean well, so Sam will notice the strange behaviour of ‘Dean’ and figure out what’s going on in no time at all.  
  
***  
  
Sam doesn’t actually notice a thing, because a) it’s 8 o’clock in the morning and Sam thinks that no one should be awake at that time anyway, and b) Dean’s not behaving that strangely.  
  
He’s packed his things and is ready to go, but Dean is still staring at himself in the bathroom mirror. “Dean, come on, you can stare at yourself somewhere else, we need to get going.”  
  
“What?” Dean replies. “Yeah. Sure. Where are we going again?”  
  
“Woonsocket, Rhode Island,” Sam replies. “String of grave robberies, remember?” When Dean looks at him blankly, Sam snorts. “But we’d better get some coffee first, don’t want you falling asleep behind the wheel of the Impala.”  
  
Dean grins at the mention of his car. “I’m driving.”  
  
Sam rolls his eyes at that, because Dean is always driving, and unless there is something physically stopping Dean from doing so, Sam’s stuck in the passenger seat. He doesn’t really care, since he has driven the Impala a couple of times, and Dean is the most annoying passenger in the world.  
  
When they’re leaving the motel, Dean is already outside when the lady at the reception desk reminds them to pay, and Sam hands her one of their credit cards. He resolves to at least have Dean pay for breakfast, because while Sam’s money isn’t being spent, it’s still the principle of the thing, and Dean has plenty of cash from last week when he played pool against some drunken student.  
  
Dean has already found the Impala, and waves Sam over. “This car is gorgeous!” he shouts.  
  
“I know, Dean, you can stop telling me!” Sam shouts back. “Now open the trunk so we can put our bags away.”  
  
Dean pats himself down, looking for the keys, and Sam frowns at that, because it’s not like Dean to not know where his car keys are, but it doesn’t ring any ‘obviously Dean has been bodyswapped’ alarm bells.  
  
Once they’re in the car and out of the parking lot, Dean turns to Sam. “All right, you mentioned coffee. Where do we get some?”  
  
Sam shrugs. “Let’s just go to the place we had dinner yesterday. They were pretty good.”  
  
Dean stares at him for a moment. “No. You know what, I think we should go somewhere else instead. Maybe somewhere else is better.”  
  
Sam wonders why on Earth Dean asked him where to go in the first place, but he nods. “All right, they didn’t really have a breakfast menu anyway.”  
  
It takes some driving around the town, but they do find a nice diner with a decent breakfast menu, and Sam tries not to look disgusted when Dean’s scoffing down a pile of pancakes. “What do you think is going on in Woonsocket?” he asks quietly when the waitress has left after refilling their coffee.  
  
Dean looks at him, and swallows. “The grave robbing?” he asks. “Could be some bored teenagers. You know, those mental Goths and emus or whatever they call them.”  
  
Sam’s slightly surprised Dean thinks it’s something common, since Dean was the one who found out about the case in the first place and suggested they check it out. “Yesterday you said it could be someone trying to create their very own zombie army,” he says.  
  
Dean shrugs. “Or that, yeah.” He pokes at his pile of pancakes. “I need more of that syrup.” He signals for the waitress, and flirts with her shamelessly whilst glancing down her shirt, but she doesn’t seem to mind much and brings the syrup with a big smile.  
  
It’s the same waitress who brings them the check, and Dean tips generously, and Sam has to wait for five minutes by the Impala before Dean leaves the diner with a big grin on his face. “I got her phone number!”  
  
“We’re not coming back here just so you can get laid, Dean,” Sam tells him. “Let’s just go to Woonsocket.”  
  
“That’s what you think,” Dean says as he gets behind the wheel. “And it’s not my fault if that waitress was more attracted to me. I’m just that much more handsome than you are.” He smirks at Sam as he starts the car.  
  
Sam grits his teeth, counting to ten to stop himself from punching Dean. It’ll only end up in a ridiculous scuffle in the car and he doesn’t want to explain to the people they’ll be questioning in Woonsocket why he’s got bruises in the shape of a steering wheel on his face. Last time that happened the people didn’t want to tell him anything and Dean had to do all the talking, and that ended in them being chased out of the town because the mayor didn’t like Dean flirting with his daughter. “Just drive, will you?”  
  
“Then tell me where to go,” Dean tells him.  
  
Sam gets out the map, and together they drive off to Woonsocket.  
  
***  
  
Dean decides that, since the phones don’t work, he should send Sam an e-mail instead. It’s easier than talking to him on the phone, because Sam will no doubt be asking a lot of annoying questions, and now Dean can just explain everything in the e-mail without interruptions. He’ll try the phone again later, but the e-mail should do for now.  
  
He’s in the middle of explaining what he has found out about his current body so far, which still isn’t much apart from his name, birthday, and place of residence, when there’s a knock on the door. “Come in!” Dean says, hoping he’ll be able to be a convincing Jeremy to whoever it is.  
  
There’s a short guy with brown eyes and messy brown hair opening his door. “Five minutes until rehearsal, Jeremy,” he says. “Don’t forget your script.”  
  
Dean smiles. Rehearsal? Script? Is he some kind of actor? “Okay.”  
  
The guy nods at that, and closes the door.  
  
Dean waits a few seconds before he panics. He quickly finishes the e-mail to Sam, and then searches his desk for something that looks like a script. He can’t find it anywhere in the mess of papers on his desk, and after ten minutes Dean decides he’ll just have to improvise instead.  
  
He’s wandering down the hallway, trying not to look like he’s lost, when he sees the young man who told him about the rehearsal walking down the hall as well. Dean wants to call out to him to ask where they’re rehearsing, but realises he doesn’t know the guy’s name. “Hey, er, shorty!”  
  
The guy looks up, and glares at Jeremy. “What is it, Clarkson?”  
  
Dean does his best to look innocent. “Just thought we could walk to rehearsal together. You can go first.”  
  
The shorter man calls him an idiot, but does lead Dean through the maze of hallways to a large room that reminds him of an old warehouse, and Dean stops when he sees the most beautiful car in the world – after his Impala. “Wow,” he says, because there are no words to express just how amazing the car is, and he walks over to it. It’s sleek and shiny and beautiful and Dean wants to drive it.  
  
The guy who has been guiding Dean just sighs. “Jeremy, I thought you had finished drooling over the GT-R yesterday?”  
  
Dean snorts at that. “I will never finish drooling over this. Just look at it!” He walks around it, admiring the car from all sides.  
  
“You can do that once we’re done rehearsing, Jeremy,” the guy says and drags him further into the studio, and over to a set with a chair, a sofa, and a television. “Let’s do the news first.”  
  
Dean is about to say that he hasn’t got his script when he sees it lying on the chair. “All right.” He sits down on the chair, assuming that it belongs to Jeremy as the script was on there. “Well?” he asks, looking through the script, hoping to find the news section and praying that it’s short. That GT-R needs to be looked at some more.  
  
“James isn’t here yet,” the guy grumbles. “I’ll go get him, you stay here.”  
  
Dean nods. The name ‘James’ also appears in his script, so he must be one of his co-stars. The other name mentioned in the script is Richard, so that must be the name of his bossy guide.  
  
He looks around the studio, at the strange blue banner with a racing driver on it, and the wreck of a pick-up truck that’s on some sort of pedestal, and wonders on what kind of show he ended up. Then he spots the huge banner proclaiming ‘Top Gear’, and things suddenly become a little bit clearer. Dean has seen bits and pieces of the program, because there are only so many things to do when you’re bored in a motel room and your younger brother refuses to go to a bar just because you’re wanted by the FBI, and Dean liked what he saw, because as far as he could tell it was a show about driving awesome cars and setting fire to the ugly ones, and Dean approves of that. He wonders if he gets to set a car on fire today.  
  
He then realises what the implications of being in the Top Gear studio are. Because Top Gear is a British show. Recorded in Britain. And everyone he’s spoken to so far has been talking with a British accent. He’s not even in the U.S.; he’s on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean, which means that he probably won’t be seeing Sam soon. He tells himself not to panic, because panicking doesn’t help, and panicking might make people realise something is wrong, and that really won’t help.  
  
Richard comes back with another man, presumably James, in tow. James is carrying a mug and is wearing one of the most hideously patterned shirts Dean has ever seen. He also thinks that he needs to drag Sam to a barber once this is all over, because Sam is halfway towards having James’ hairstyle, and that won’t work. Birds might decide to make a nest in it, and that’s just distracting on a hunt.  
  
“I thought we were going to start with the Cool Wall,” James says, sipping from his mug. “Because we didn’t do that last series and Andy thought you and Clarkson might be rusty.”  
  
Dean immediately leafs through his script to find out more about the Cool Wall, and it just has a list of car names, which isn’t helpful at all.  
  
Meanwhile, James has settled on the sofa while Richard gestures for Dean to come with him. Dean is still leafing through the script, hoping there’s another note on the Cool Wall, when he comes face to face with it. It’s a big wall with pictures of various cars, and at the top there’re signs saying ‘seriously uncool’, ‘uncool’, ‘cool’ and ‘subzero’. Dean grins. He’ll just have to say whether a car is cool or not, and only from looking at it. He can do that, and he’ll just let Richard take the lead. It’ll be fine, and no one will notice a thing.  
  
Dean forgets all about this plan when Richard shows him the first picture. “The 2008 Chevrolet Impala,” Richard says. “Now, Jeremy, what do you-”  
  
“Subzero,” Dean immediately replies, and snatches the picture to put it in the subzero section. “And don’t even try to argue that it’s not.”  
  
Richard just smiles at him. “I think I will, Jeremy, because it’s nowhere near Subzero, and you know it.”  
  
Dean snorts at that. “You’ve got no taste in cars at all, have you? Look at it, it’s gorgeous and Impalas are fantastic cars.”  
  
Richard raises an eyebrow at him. “You think that Impalas are fantastic cars?”  
  
“Of course I do!” Dean replies, gesturing with his arms. “They’re amazing, and, all right, the classic design is better-looking than this new version, but I’m sure that the engine is still as awesome as it’s always been.”  
  
“Awesome?” Richard repeats, still looking slightly puzzled. “Right. Hey, Jeremy, where do you think the new Aston Martin V8 Vantage should go?”  
  
Dean glances at it. “With an interior like that? Uncool.”  
  
Richard promptly drops all the remaining cars. “Don’t go anywhere,” he tells Dean, and runs off to James, who is still sitting on the sofa, going through his script. Richard says something to James, who looks surprised, but follows Richard when he comes back to Dean. “Tell him what you just did,” Richard says. “With the Aston.”  
  
“I wanted to put it in Uncool,” Dean tells James, wondering what’s wrong with that. The Aston Martin Richard showed him looks like the sort of car driven by middle-aged men with a bad comb-over, and that can’t possibly make the car cool.  
  
James’ eyes widen at that. “I think we need a break,” he declares. “Richard, go tell Andy we’re taking fifteen minutes, I’ll take Jeremy to the portacabin, it’ll be quiet there now.”  
  
Richard nods. “I’ll tell him we’re working out the kinks with the news.”  
  
Richard hurries off, and Dean wants to protest that he doesn’t need a break, and that he’s fine, and is that portacabin far away from that gorgeous GT-R, because he hasn’t looked his fill yet, but James just gestures for Dean to follow him.  
  
Okay, so James and Richard think something is wrong with Jeremy. For some reason Jeremy wouldn’t put an Aston Martin in Uncool, even though it clearly belongs there, and judging from Richard’s reaction at Dean’s outburst about the Impala, Jeremy wouldn’t have put that in Subzero either. Dean wonders whether he should tell the truth and hope James and Richard won’t want to lock him up in some mental hospital, or if he should say he’s been feeling ill and hope that they will believe that’s why he’s been acting strangely.  
  
***  
  
James leads him to a portacabin outside the huge hangar, and tells Dean to sit down. “I’ll make some tea and we’ll wait for Richard to get here,” James says.  
  
Dean thinks he should wait to see what James and Richard think before he makes up a cover story. He’ll just go along with whatever they think is wrong, they’ll have some tea, and it’ll be fine. And maybe then Dean can try to call Sam again, because now it makes sense that the phones didn’t work, since Dean didn’t use the international code. He tries to remember what the time difference between the U.K. and the east coast of the U.S. is, but decides that he doesn’t really care if he wakes Sam up with the phone call.  
  
When James puts a mug of tea in front of him, Richard walks into the cabin. “All right, who are you, and what have you done to Jeremy Clarkson?” Richard asks, closing the door behind him.  
  
Dean blinks at that. “I am Jeremy Clarkson,” he says.  
  
“No, you’re not,” James tells him, putting a third mug down for Richard. “Because Jeremy would’ve put that Aston in the fridge, and not in the uncool section. Who are you?”  
  
“You think someone switched bodies with me?” Dean asks, slightly incredulous. “That’s not the most logical explanation, is it?”  
  
Richard blows on his tea. “Well, it’s either that, or you’ve finally gone completely bonkers, and you seem too coherent for that.”  
  
“Besides, if it were just a case of Jeremy going mad, he would’ve gone out to destroy every Toyota Prius he could find by now,” James informs him. “So the body switching actually is the most logical explanation.”  
  
Dean laughs. “But that sort of thing never happens,” he says. “Ever.”  
  
Richard snorts at that. “Happened to us last month.”  
  
Dean stares at him. “Wait, what? You’ve switched bodies before? Why? How?”  
  
“It’s a long story,” Richard says. “And it’s the fault of Stig, our racing driver. He does that sort of thing when he gets annoyed.”  
  
“Or he turns people Jeremy accidentally ran over with his car into zombies.” James does the finger quotes, and Dean hopes that means James isn’t serious about the zombies, because he doesn’t want to deal with anything supernatural on top of this, even if it’s a zombie.  
  
“Just that one time, though,” Richard points out. “And no one actually noticed anything was wrong with Piers Morgan anyway.”  
  
Dean is still trying to catch up. “So, wait a minute, your Stig does this sort of thing all the time? And there really is a zombie?”  
  
Richard nods. “Yes. We haven’t seen Piers in a while, though, which is good. It’s always so annoying when he turns up, because we have to stop Jeremy from running him over again and then beat Piers up with cricket bats until he leaves.”  
  
Dean still isn’t sure what kind of weird place he ended up in, but he knows one thing: “That’s not the right way to deal with a zombie,” he says.  
  
“And you do know the right way?” Richard asks, sipping from his tea.  
  
Dean grins at him. “I do,” he replies. Dean has been reading up on zombies ever since he first saw the page in his dad’s journal describing them. “How about an exchange? I take care of the zombie, and you make sure Stig puts me back in my own body.”  
  
“Yes, where is Jeremy, anyway?” Richard asks. “Do you think he’ll be safe?”  
  
Dean nods. “He’s with my brother, he’ll be fine,” he says. “But I want to call him to check.”  
  
James and Richard nod, and wait as Dean dials Sam’s cell. It doesn’t long before Sam answers.  
  
“Sam Winchester, who is this?” he asks.  
  
“Sam, it’s Dean,” Dean says. He’s about to tell Sam to stop worrying when Sam cuts him off.  
  
“No, you’re not.”  
  
“Yes, I am, and whoever’s in my body right now isn’t me,” Dean tells him. “Didn’t you notice anything?” He can’t believe his own brother hasn’t noticed anything’s different about him. He’s a bit insulted, actually.  
  
“Look, whoever you are,” Sam says, “this is a really lame joke, and I’m hanging up right now.”  
  
“Don’t! Sam, listen to me!” Dean then stares at James and Richard. “He hung up on me!”  
  
“He’ll realise what’s going on sooner or later,” Richard reassures him. “Jeremy isn’t that good at pretending to be someone he’s not. Now, what do you want to do about the zombie?”  
  
***  
  
“Who was that?” Dean asks as Sam puts the phone away.  
  
“No one,” Sam replies.  
  
Dean nods. “Okay. So, grave robbing, does that happen often around here?”  
  
Sam looks through his notes. “I found a reference to a series of grave robberies in the 17th century, but no reports of other strange things. It might be completely unrelated, but I doubt it.”  
  
“What do you think it is?” Dean asks.  
  
“Might be a necromancer,” Sam suggests. “They use corpses for all kinds of things.”  
  
Dean stares at him. “What’s a necromancer?”  
  
***  
  
Dean is explaining to James and Richard that he has dealt with all sorts of supernatural creatures when his phone rings. He doesn’t even realise it’s his phone until James hands it to him. “Yeah, er, Jeremy. This is Jeremy,” he says.  
  
“Dean? Is that really you?” Sam asks.  
  
Dean grins. “You found my e-mail, didn’t you?”  
  
“What e-mail?” Sam asks. “No, the guy who’s you didn’t know what necromancy was, and after I made him stop the car he told me he’s actually someone named Jeremy Clarkson. Are you in his body?”  
  
“Yes, I am,” Dean tells him. “And I can’t believe you didn’t figure it out sooner. You’re the worst brother in the world.”  
  
“Shut up, Dean,” Sam replies. “We have to deal with this. How are things on your side?”  
  
“Pretty good, actually,” Dean says. “Jeremy’s friends realised something was wrong and immediately thought of body swapping, so I think I’d rather swap one of them for you, since they actually notice when something’s wrong.”  
  
“Dean!”  
  
“I mean it, though.” He turns to James and Richard. “How good are you two in a fight? Or with a gun?”  
  
Richard points at James. “He’s not bad with a gun and I’m pretty good in a fight. Why? Because I already tried punching Piers, and that didn’t do much good.”  
  
“Oh, yeah, I forgot to mention this,” Dean says into the phone. “There’s a zombie around here, so any reversing will have to wait until I’ve dealt with that.”  
  
“A zombie?” Sam repeats. “And do you know how to reverse it?”  
  
“James and Richard say Stig did it,” Dean says. “So they’re going to convince him to reverse it once I’m done with the zombie.”  
  
“Wait a minute,” Sam says, and Dean waits as he listens to Sam ask Jeremy about Stig and the zombies. “Yeah, all right, Jeremy says it’s someone called Piers Morgan, and that you should drive over him in the biggest Land Rover you can find, and that James and Richard need to stop whining about it and just let you do it.”  
  
Dean doesn’t relay that information to the other two. “Anything else?”  
  
“You’re sure you’re fine?” Sam asks. “With taking on the zombie alone?”  
  
Dean grins. “Absolutely. Look, just sit tight and keep my body out of trouble, okay? I’ll be back before you know it.”  
  
“See you soon,” Sam says, and hangs up.  
  
“Dean, I don’t want to worry you, or anything, but we’re recording in four hours, and we still need to call the Stig, and we don’t know how you want to get rid of Morgan,” Richard says.  
  
“You said Piers Morgan used to be a journalist, right?” Dean asks. “The kind who likes a scoop, the more scandalous, the better?”  
  
“Definitely,” Richard replies. “Why?”  
  
“Oh, I think I know what will get him here. And then it’s just a case of kidnapping him and putting a stake through him in his grave,” Dean says. “Easy enough if we wait after dark.”  
  
James and Richard stare at him for a moment. “Er, we discovered he’s got a weakness for salt when Jeremy threw salted peanuts at him,” Richard offers. “Maybe we should use that before we start breaking into cemeteries. Besides, no one knows he’s actually dead, so he hasn’t got a real grave.”  
  
Dean nods. “All right, salt works on most supernatural things, it’s worth a shot.” It could be the only thing that works if Piers really doesn’t have a grave.  
  
“But what about the recording?” James asks. “People might realise something is wrong.”  
  
“It’s not like they’ll assume Jeremy’s swapped bodies with some random American guy,” Richard scoffs. “If anyone asks, Jeremy is feeling under the weather or hasn’t slept well.”  
  
“Besides, it took you two long enough to realise I wasn’t Jeremy,” Dean reminds them. “Just give me a few pointers on how to act like him, and it’ll be fine.”  
  
***  
  
“It’s better if we lie low for a while,” Sam tells Jeremy, who is already getting restless and pacing the motel room up and down. “Dean’ll kill me if you hurt him somehow.”  
  
“Come on, we can’t even go to a bar? I’m an attractive young man! I have needs!” Jeremy complains. “And what about those grave robberies? And that necrophiliac you mentioned, are you just going to sit here while more dead bodies get stolen?”  
  
“Necromancer,” Sam says, “not a necrophiliac.” Although, considering it’s someone stealing corpses, it may very well be, which is just disgusting. “And it can wait a few days.”  
  
Jeremy is silent for a few minutes. “You know,” he says, “I can probably get there myself and solve the thing without your help. It’s probably nothing more than annoying teens anyway.”  
  
“You’re not going anywhere without me,” Sam tells him. “I’ll tie you to a chair if I have to.”  
  
Jeremy raises an eyebrow at that. “I should’ve known the two of you weren’t really brothers.”  
  
Sam’s brain is too busy revolting at what Jeremy just suggested to realise that he ran out of the hotel room, presumably to go to the Impala and drive off to Woonsocket himself. Sam runs after him, but doesn’t catch up until Jeremy’s already behind the wheel. “Coming with me?” he asks, grinning.  
  
“Fine,” Sam says. “But we’re just going to ask a few questions, and not do anything dangerous.”  
  
Jeremy snorts. “I never do anything dangerous.”  
  
“Really? Then how come you and your friends have to deal with a zombie?” Sam reminds him, putting his seatbelt on.  
  
“That was just one time, and it was an accident,” Jeremy insists. “I don’t care what Richard says, I genuinely hadn’t seen that Morgan was standing there. Now, let’s go.”  
  
***  
  
Dean has decided that the best thing to do is kill the zombie near the portacabin. It’ll be away from the hangar and no one actually hangs around in it, so he’s free to put salt inside in strategic places without anyone looking at him strangely.  
  
Getting a gun might be a problem, though, since Dean doesn’t think BBC presenters are in the habit of carrying weapons around, but there’s always a guy who knows a guy, so Dean will ask Richard or James about that later, and otherwise they’ll come up with something else.  
  
“Hey, Dean,” Richard says, standing in the doorway of the portacabin. “We really, really need to do some rehearsing for this afternoon, or it won’t work.”  
  
Dean nods. “All right, I’m done here, but we still need a gun to actually shoot the zombie with salt.”  
  
Richard thinks for a moment. “Well, there’s still Jeremy’s AK-47. He never bothered to take it home after the caravan holiday.”  
  
Dean stares at him for a moment. “Wait, he brought an AK-47 with him on a holiday?”  
  
“He didn’t actually use it,” Richard says. “He couldn’t, there’re no bullets in it. But then again, if we’re using salt, we won’t need bullets, right?” He looks up at Dean hopefully, who nods. “And James has called Stig, who said he can be here in an hour. That’s fifteen minutes before we let the audience in, so we’ll be cutting it close, but it’s the best he could do.”  
  
“We’ll manage,” Dean tells him. They’ll have to manage, because while Dean thinks he can fool the crew of Top Gear, he probably won’t be able to fool all the people who will be watching the show. “Let’s rehearse.”  
  
***  
  
Jeremy and Sam arrive in Woonsocket, and Jeremy insists they do some asking around immediately about the grave robberies. Sam asks the constable behind the desk at the police station, claiming that he has ancestors in the cemetery, and he wants to make sure there’s no risk of them getting stolen.  
  
The constable is kind enough to tell him that the main suspect of the grave robberies has been committed to a mental hospital, and that he won’t be getting out any time soon. Sam thanks him for his time, and goes back to the car where he told Jeremy to wait.  
  
Jeremy is not there.  
  
Sam swears and almost kicks the tyres of the Impala, but restrains himself. That sort of thing won’t help, and Jeremy has probably just gone for a walk after all that driving. He’ll be back in no time.  
  
***  
  
Dean smiles uncomfortably at the two people opposite him on the sofa. Apparently they’re famous in Britain, but he’s never even heard of them and he’s forgotten their names. Richard advised Dean to let the guests do most of the talking, and to ask about their latest projects and things like that. It goes well, and Dean laughs in all the right places and they even look at the laps the guests did in the Lacetti, but Dean refuses to tell them their lap times, mostly because he doesn’t actually know.  
  
The interview is over before Dean knows it, and the two guests leave to get some coffee, and James and Richard take their places. “Not bad,” Richard says. “Apart from the way you looked utterly terrified throughout. And if you’re still here when we’re recording, remember to make fun of Peter having once owned a Porsche. Jeremy does that.”  
  
“Also, you need to be more offensive during the news,” James tells him. “Insult the Germans, or something.”  
  
“Why?” Dean asks. “What for?”  
  
“Because he’s Jeremy, and because he can,” Richard says. “You know, if the whole reversal doesn’t work out, I won’t mind that much. You’re not that different from Jeremy so we can’t deal with it, and I won’t have to suffer any teeth-whitening short jokes anymore.”  
  
Dean laughs. “I can always start making those to be more convincing,” he says. “And Jeremy’s job is driving awesome cars and shouting; I think I can handle that.” It’d be a nice break from hunting anyway.  
  
“I don’t think Jeremy’s family would like it very much,” James points out reasonably. “And you’d be a lot happier in your own body.”  
  
“I would,” Dean says. And he’d quite like to see Sam again. Just so he has someone to yell at if Jeremy damaged his Impala, obviously.  
  
***  
  
Jeremy doesn’t return for another fifteen minutes, and when he does, he’s running. “We should get out of here,” he says, getting in the car and starting the engine. “Come on.”  
  
Sam gets in. “What did you do?” he asks.  
  
“What makes you think I did anything?” Jeremy asks, trying to look innocent. The problem is that Dean’s face isn’t exactly made for looking innocent, so the attempt rather fails. They drive off, and Sam turns to see a couple of guys running down the street, looking angry.  
  
“Seriously, what did you do? Can we come back here?”  
  
“I may have slightly implied that they’re a bunch of inbred yokels who have to sleep with corpses because no living person would have them,” Jeremy says. “Look, I was trying to find out if it was a necrophiliac!”  
  
Sam just sighs. “And?”  
  
“Well, they got rather defensive, so I wouldn’t put it past them,” Jeremy says. “But one of them said a Brian Timmons did it. What did you find?”  
  
“That the main suspect is locked in a mental hospital,” Sam tells him. “Probably that Brian guy. Rumours spread quickly in a town this size.”  
  
“Then we need to find out more about him.”  
  
“No,” Sam says, “I’m going to find out more about him. You’re not going anywhere that involves talking to actual people.”  
  
***  
  
They have about an hour before the audience comes in, and the crew has chased out anyone who doesn’t absolutely need to be there for the technical side of things, which includes Dean, James, and Richard.  
  
“We’d still need to take out Piers Morgan,” James reminds Dean, as they’re standing outside and avoiding the audience members who have already turned up. “Are you sure he’ll be here?”  
  
“Very sure,” Dean says. “Where’s the AK-47?”  
  
“In the portacabin,” Richard tells him. “Along with the rest of the salt.”  
  
“Let’s load it, then.” Dean walks over to the portacabin, Richard and James following him.  
  
“How are you sure he’ll be here?” Richard asks.  
  
Dean grins. “Because I did some research, found some people he used as sources in the past, and dropped a few hints that the two of you are having a torrid gay love affair.”  
  
Richard freezes. “You did what?”  
  
“Come on, if that won’t lure him out, nothing will!” Dean insists.  
  
“He has a point.” James shrugs.  
  
Richard splutters some more, but eventually is forced to agree.  
  
***  
  
As it turns out, Brian Timmons used to live in Providence, and when Sam visits Brian’s kind old mother, she unfortunately insists that Jeremy come in as well, because “having him stay outside would just be rude, wouldn’t it, and he seems like a nice young man.”  
  
Jarvis, the stern-looking butler, eyes them as if he’s found them on the soles of his shoes, and goes to the kitchen.  
  
“We just had to come down here once we heard what happened to Brian,” Sam says. “I was a classmate of his; he seemed like a normal guy.”  
  
Mrs. Timmons sighs as Jarvis pours the tea. “Yes, and I simply don’t know what happened! One moment Brian was such a nice, normal boy, albeit one with an unhealthy interest in the family history, and the next moment, well, the next moment he’s in a mental hospital!” She looks at Sam and Jeremy, tears welling in her eyes. “You two boys should see him. Maybe it’ll make him himself again.”  
  
Jeremy smiles. “Well, who are we to say no to that?” He looks at Sam. “You don’t want to deny Brian a chance to become sane again, do you?”  
  
“Of course not,” Sam says, annoyed that Jeremy is agreeing already. “Mrs. Timmons, is there anything that changed about Brian, apart from his interest in the family history?”  
  
So, Mrs. Timmons tells them about a shady fellow called Mr. Baines who became friends with Brian, and the farm near Woonsocket Brian bought where he lived the past few months, and makes them promise to come back once they’ve visited Brian.  
  
“I think that went well,” Jeremy says, as they walk back to the Impala.  
  
“You weren’t supposed to talk,” Sam hisses, since Mrs. Timmons is waving goodbye at them from the door. He waves back, half-heartedly. “You were supposed to nod and eat your cake!”  
  
“Please, like you didn’t want to visit the lunatic,” Jeremy tells him. “And now we have a legitimate excuse. Stop complaining, we’ve got work to do.”  
  
Sam hopes that the reversal happens soon, because if he has to deal with Jeremy for much longer, he can’t promise that he won’t try to strangle him.  
  
***  
  
Inside the portacabin, Dean is hiding with the AK-47. It’s rather difficult to do this when he’s suddenly a lot taller and a lot less bendy than he’s used to.  
  
“How tall is Jeremy, anyway?” he asks, as he’s trying to squeeze behind an old sofa. “There’s no way the zombie won’t spot me.”  
  
“Six foot five, I think,” James tells him. “But I don’t think it matters; Piers isn’t that observant.”  
  
“Really,” Dean says. Six foot five. That’s one inch taller than Sam. Too bad he’s not here so Dean can gloat, but he’ll take what he can get. “Just try to look like you’re having a torrid love affair,” he hisses at James and Richard. “He’s supposed to come in here to get his scoop.”  
  
“I liked the zombie-defeating plan better when I wasn’t bait,” Richard says, and takes one step closer to James. “Why couldn’t James have a torrid love affair with you?”  
  
“Because I’m the one who’s going to shoot Morgan,” Dean tells him. “Now, stop talking to me and be convincing!”  
  
They wait for five minutes, and while James has spotted Piers lurking outside with a camera, he hasn’t yet made a move to come inside.  
  
Richard checks his watch. “Only half an hour to go,” he mutters, and drags James away from the window. “If he can’t see us from inside, he’ll have to come in here.”  
  
It doesn’t take long before Dean hears shuffling, and it has to be the zombie. He readies the AK-47, aiming it at the doorway. Even if the first shot doesn’t do it, there’s plenty of salt lying around to subdue the zombie until Dean can reload to finish the job.  
  
There’s a shadow in the doorway now, and Dean can feel the adrenaline rushing through his body. This is it, this is going to be the first time he takes out a zombie by himself, and Dean suppresses his excitement. He has to focus now.  
  
A man appears in the doorway, and his skin is grey, but Dean still waits for Richard to give him the signal.  
  
“Piers!” Richard exclaims, sounding shocked.  
  
Dean shoots, and the zombie staggers backwards. He shoots again for good measure, and it doesn’t take long for Piers’ body to dissolve, leaving only a pile of smelly clothes behind.  
  
“At least we won’t have to deal with his corpse,” James says sensibly, prodding the pile of clothes.  
  
Richard looks at his watch. “It’s a quarter to,” he says. “Stig said he’d be here by now. Quit celebrating, Dean, let’s get you back in your own body.”  
  
Dean promptly drops the AK-47 and follows Richard and James to a backdoor of the hangar to find the Stig.  
  
***  
  
The trip to the mental hospital doesn’t tell Sam and Jeremy much. Brian tried to convince them he was perfectly sane, but they didn’t fall for it. And once Brian realised that, he went into a rage, spitting and cursing at them.  
  
The orderlies and the doctor weren’t useful either; they seemed to think Brian’s case was pretty much hopeless.  
  
“So, what do we do now?” Jeremy asks, leaning against the Impala.  
  
“We visit that farm,” Sam says. “It’s our last lead. And let’s take a route that doesn’t lead through Woonsocket.”  
  
They’re halfway there when Jeremy starts convulsing, and Sam has to grab the wheel and use the handbrake to stop the car. He tries to stop Jeremy from convulsing, but it doesn’t help, and eventually Jeremy stops moving, slumping in his seat. “Are you all right?” Sam asks.  
  
“Never been better, Sammy,” Dean tells him, and grins. “I got to kill a zombie.”  
  
Sam can’t quite believe it. “You’re yourself again? You’re sure?”  
  
“100 per cent,” Dean says. “Where are we?”  
  
“Near Woonsocket. We, er, kinda started investigating the grave robbing case already,” Sam admits.  
  
“I told you to lie low!” Dean exclaims. “You’re supposed to listen to me, Sam!”  
  
“Nothing happened,” Sam tells him. “And you didn’t have to deal with Jeremy. Let’s just go.”  
  
“Fine,” Dean says. “But I hope that next time you get your body switched, it’s switched with a midget.”  
  
“I hope you get your body switched with a woman,” Sam replies, and Dean just smirks at that. “Ellen,” he adds, and Dean’s smirk drops.  
  
“That’s just evil,” he mutters.  
  
“Oh, I don’t know,” Sam says, smiling. “I think Ellen would be a good companion to have with me on a hunt.”  
  
“I hate you so much, Sam,” Dean says. “I hope you know that.” He tries to sound like he means it, but he’s missed the banter with Sam too much to leave the fondness entirely out of his voice.  
  
“I hate you too,” Sam replies, and smiles.  
  
***  
  
“So, Stig, I hope you have a good explanation for this,” Richard says, trying to sound stern. The recording is over, and Jeremy slipped back into his usual role of offensive television presenter with ease. “This could’ve gone very wrong.”  
  
Stig hangs his head, and mimes that it’s all the fault of his cousin, the Trickster, who thought it’d be funny. He also promises to not do it again.  
  
“That’s good enough for me,” Jeremy says. “Come on, let’s get a drink.”  
  
“Don’t you think we should let Sam and Dean know it wasn’t just the Stig, but also this Trickster fellow?” James asks.  
  
“Nah, everything’s fixed now, and they probably don’t even know who the Trickster is. He’s related to the Stig, right? And we all know how shy Stig and his family are around humans. We’d only worry them,” Jeremy says decisively. “They’ve got enough to deal with as it is.”  
  
***  
  
Jeremy has no idea how prophetic his words are, because on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean, in an underground tunnel, Sam suddenly has to explain to Ellen why she’s in Dean’s body and several feet under the ground.


End file.
